


A Fine Line

by jonsasnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, Tumblr Prompts, figure skater sansa, hockey player jon, quotes drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 06:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11481081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: "I want you and I know you want me too..."or the one where Jon is the captain of the hockey team and Sansa is captain of the figure skating team.





	A Fine Line

“I want you and I know you want me too.” 

“Not even a little,” Sansa gasped, as he nipped at her pulse point. She tightened her grip around his neck and tugged his hair back, so she could look him in the eyes. “I hate you, Jon Snow. I hate you so much.” 

He smirked and captured her mouth with his, moving fiercely and determinedly, like he could kiss all the sense right out of her. Maybe he could. Considering Sansa had her legs wrapped around his waist, her dress hitched up to her hips and several hickeys dotted up her neck, she’d say she had definitely lost her mind. 

“You keep,” he paused to place a kiss to the edge of her lips, “saying that.” Another pause as he ran more kisses along the line of her jaw. “But we keep ending up here every time we’re even in the same room together.” 

Sansa let out a growl of frustration as she ran her fingers through his curls. She bucked her hips and smiled when she heard his own groan reciprocate her impatience. 

“I find _you_  attractive, but I still hate you,” Sansa answered firmly, even though her body felt weightless in his arms. For a neanderthal hockey player, she couldn’t help be amazed by how gentle he always was with her. It wasn’t just that the sex was as aggressive and passionate as their verbal bickering, but Sansa knew he’d never really hurt her. The way his arms splayed out around her back to the way his eyes crinkled in smug satisfaction every time he made her mewl – there was fondness beneath it all, and maybe that scared Sansa just a little too much. 

Jon wrapped his arms tighter around her and lifted her away from the wall. He effortlessly moved them over to the main table and laid her down on top, pushing her dress even further up so he could place a searing kiss to her thigh. But instead of doing what she desperately wanted, Jon rested his chin, prickly from his unshaven beard, on top of her skin. The sensation was intoxicating and Sansa tried to squirm underneath him, but Jon just stilled her movements. 

“We’re going to see a lot of each other, Stark,” he said, amused but also shy. God knew how Sansa knew that though. “We might as well try to get along. For our teams, you know?” 

She rested her elbows on the table so she could lift herself up to look at him properly. “Jon, our teams don’t even run in the same circles. You’re captain of the hockey team and I’m captain of the figure skating team. In what world –” 

“C’mon, Sans.” Her heart sped up at the nickname. He looked exasperated now. “We’re from the same university. We’re here for two weeks for the tournament. I think it’d be nice if we could get along.”

“We get along fine,” Sansa said as she ran her fingers down her body to grip onto the hem of her dress. In one swift move, she pulled it off and threw it to the far corner of the meeting room. Twenty minutes ago, it had been filled with members of both of their teams, the university sports coordinators, and their coaches. Now, it was just them – with Sansa in her red bra and black underwear (thanking God she remembered to do laundry the other day and didn’t have to resort to her less-than-pretty undergarments) and Jon staring at her like she was something to be revered. 

Jon straightened up and pulled off his own shirt before descending over her to kiss her again. His hands were _finally_  back on her and Sansa thumped her head back against the table when they found their way to her hips. 

“What if I...” he inched back, his lips swollen and red, while his eyes looked more concerned than turned on. Sansa frowned, reaching up to smooth the furrow between his brows. “Sansa, what if I wanted us to get along outside of just meeting rooms and offices?” 

“What are you saying?” She was still frowning, but the butterflies were fluttering ecstatically in her stomach. 

“That maybe I want to take you out on a date and that maybe I feel irrationally angry every time I think about you doing this with anyone else.” Jon’s jaw ticked and he closed his eyes. “Remember when we played King’s Landing?” 

“Yeah?” Sansa touched his cheek and forced him to open his eyes. 

“I knocked Joffrey out not because he was trying to foul Tormund. I did it because he kept talking shit about you,” Jon admitted, shaking his head. “I know. How very _neanderthal_ of me the hockey player but –” 

Sansa placed both hands on either side of his face and pulled him down for a kiss. It was neither aggressive nor frenzied, as was normally the case between them; it was soft, searching and, God save her, affectionate. 

“I don’t hate you,” she whispered against his lips, unable to keep the goofy grin from spreading. “I hate how much I don’t hate you.” 

“I can live with that,” Jon chuckled, kissing her again. “I can definitely live with that.” 


End file.
